The Art of Killing
by Allen Skylark
Summary: Light overlooked one flaw in his plan, now he's on the run with Misa, L and the task force closing in, when he meets a man from Iran willing to aid Kira's escape from Japan. Light soon discovers that the Death Note's ties to human history began in the middle east with an occult society of assassins. As secrets are unveiled, L's chase turns into a race with the Hashsashin.
1. Chapter 1 A Taste to Remember

**Disclaimer:** Characters and affiliated material belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. No profit is made off this.

A more sexually explicit version of this story can be found in Archive of our Own under the penname Tarshil.

 **Chapter One: A Taste to Remember**

Light would wonder for the rest of his life at how abruptly the tides had turned against him. Every piece had been in its calculated position. Despite having known nothing but an endless line of victories and reverence most of his life, it brought Light incomparable joy to see a perfectly executed plan of his design unfold on its own. And the taste of its fruit would have been the sweetest because his opponent this time would be his greatest and most formidable challenger.

Where did it go wrong? What piece had been wrongly placed? Higuchi was dead, Misa continued to kill, and Rem would not betray anything that would endanger Misa. L was blissfully ignorant of being checked and when he finally figured it out it would be too late. That had been the plan; his strategy from the very beginning, restrained tautly in his sling and ready to unleash a volley of attacks upon the fake Kira's death against all that stood in his way: Rem, Watari, L, and eventually Misa. The strategy should have been absolute, without error.

"Light Yagami, you are under arrest." The hoarse, broken voice of his father broke the silence which had pervaded the air right before Light's world came apart. Soichiro looked at his son without making eye contact. His mixed expression of weariness and rage on his haggard face left Light in near stupor.

Numbly, Light felt rough and surprisingly cold hands take his wrists and snap them into handcuffs so tight they bit painfully into the flesh. The AC was especially chilly; the grayness of the spacious room and the white lights glaring overhead from the high ceiling of the investigation room seemed to augment the cold dread coiling in his stomach.

"Dad?"

"For the murder of hundreds—including several FBI agents."

"Listen to me..."

"And the extortion of government officials, as well as police officers-"

"Dad! Please!"

"Don't call me that. You are no longer my son."

 _No, don't say that!_ His father was always the first to listen to him. "Dad, please listen, this must be a mistake!" He refused to believe his last resort was abandoning him. The man who always believed him.

"Don't call me that!"

Even having killed hundreds of men, his childish heart leaped in desperation at the thought of being abandoned by his father. Angry that Soichiro was no longer in his power, he lunged towards him, but he was constrained by several strong arms. Someone quickly forced him to the ground on his stomach with one hand pressed to his head, keeping the side of his face crushed against the cold floor.

"How could you," Matsuda asked shakily with a knee jabbing painfully between Light's shoulder blades.

"Lock him up immediately," L said.

As Light was roughly brought to his feet, he shot a quick glance at the most detestable man alive, whose slouched form dangled Light's watch between his fingers triumphantly. He was shoved forward, away from the investigation headquarters. "Kira has finally been brought to justice," he heard L say before the door closed behind him. Aizawa and Matsuda dragged his uncooperative form to his cell.

Light had erred in keeping the piece of Death Note with Higuchi's name in his watch after the deed was done. Without it, L would have had no physical proof; merely the testimony of a shinigami, a source no one would believe in court or the media. But now they did have hard evidence. The whole world had seen Higuchi's sudden death by heart attack; they knew he had been Kira—or a substitute. And Light's watch connected the dots.

Even as the world crashed around him and he panicked, Light refused to admit defeat.

Later that night, in his small, dark, windowless cell, he remained sitting on the hard cot in the same position they put him in. He still had a trump card: Misa. If he knew her well, he could guess what her next move was. Rem had ratted him out in vain and soon enough the wretched bitch would understand her mistake.

His blood thrummed like war drums in his veins. Light could not stop his overactive imagination from running wild, scenarios of death playing a macabre movie in his head. A few hours later when his adrenaline was fully exhausted and left him fatigued with strange, numb peace, he finally dozed off.

* * *

Light was roused by the soft groan of door hinges announcing someone into the cell, though it was too dark to see anything. Light sat up and his breath seemed to pause in anticipation. The metal door was closed and locked with a firm click.

"Who's there?" he breathed.

A faint shadow drew near and loomed over him, the eerie silence only broken by the sound of a man's soft breath. "It's ironic, Light," said L.

"What do you want?"

"After Higuchi, I was truly beginning to think you were innocent. That perhaps Kira was far more clever than you and I and had distracted me by using you. Well, I wasn't that far off. You are truly one hell of an actor, Light." There was a regretful tone underlining L's trademark drawl.

"You sound disappointed."

"Almost. I said I was only beginning to think you were innocent. I still had suspicions."

"Did you think we could be friends if I _was_ innocent?"

When L remained silent for too long, Light scoffed, already wiser to the answer. "What are you doing here?"

He received no answer but was surprised when L pressed his solid, wiry body to him. L was thin but rock hard and Light felt the adamantine ripples beneath a thin shirt as L's torso lay firmly over his. Although both men shared similar girths, Light had more fat on him and weighed a bit more than L. Their strength was matched, though, admittedly, L was quicker. Still, Light could have had a chance to dislodge the man if his hands weren't handcuffed and pinned under the small of his back, sending burning jolts up his twisted limbs.

L never played by the rules. His methods to gain what he wanted were unfair and questionable, but this was going too far.

"What do you think you're doing," Light growled.

Abruptly, he cried in surprise and shivered as teeth firmly trapped the soft flesh of the bottom of his earlobe. A velvety, wet muscle glossed over the sensitive skin over his jugular. His eyes widened in disbelief when he realized what L was doing. That was when Light really began to thrash and fight back. A strong limb wrapped around his chest and arm while a palm covered his mouth.

"All cameras are shut off. The walls of this building are soundproof."

Light's violent flailing managed to bring his lips close enough to the side of L's hand for him to clamp his teeth around a bony digit. The detective only let out a soft, restrained groan, removing his hand from Light's mouth. His efforts proved futile and soon Light felt his lips sting as they were assaulted by L's mouth and tongue, the taste of whiskey hard in his mouth. _Since when did L drink,_ thought Light whiel trying to keep calm. A pair of sinewy arms circled him. Firm, narrow hips between his legs rendered him incapable of landing a kick.

The night was surreal. The shadowy body above him was like an intangible nightmare that Light's mind could not grasp. Moaning and gasping desperately into the older man's face, Light tried to turn his head away. Everything swirled unrealistically. In the darkness, it was like he was drowning in black water, unable to breathe and unable to know which way was up or down.

Suddenly L stopped and propped his upper body on his elbows, cupping Light's face in his warm hands almost tenderly. Lips ghosted over his own, whispering harsh, drunk words in a tone that should have held a lover's hums of adoration. "I hate you."

Light did not know what to make of it. The way L said it made Light wonder if the man had finally cracked after a long time of self-repression. Had L always wanted to physically hurt Kira, who unwaveringly defied him and those government laws that structured his power and wealth? His profession would have compelled him to keep his hand back past this line, his primitive urges moored to logic and reason.

Or was what L had tried to imprison within himself something more forbidden? Had L always wanted to touch Light this way? The thought made him shudder. It was too unnerving to think about.

"And I _loathe_ you," Light answered, his voice on the precipice of breaking as he kept in under control with sheer willpower. Light's lips were so close to L's that they caressed lightly. L's lips were horribly dry, he noted absently. "But, you don't see me trying to get into your pants. What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Fingers suddenly wrapped around his throat again, pressing hard enough to cause discomfort yet allowing him to gasp for breath. "I don't know," was the cryptic answer.

To Light it meant nothing and he began to thrash again, trying to knee L off him—even though it really wouldn't accomplish much else than provoke whatever madness had possessed L. He was locked here, in a maze of a building only L knew how to navigate and where L reigned. His cell was locked, engulfed by darkness, and his arms were secured tightly behind him. Where could Light go, even if he managed to dislodge the man?

"So much for justice," he gasped as rough fingers tightened around his neck, "I can't do...anything...to defend myself...you force your twisted desires on me...you coward."

 _Thwack!_ He gasped sharply. His cheek stung horribly from the slap but L had loosened his grip on his neck at least.

"Is that right," L jeered, his voice steady as always but lined with cold anger. "And what would you know of justice, _Kira_? You still maintain that what you did was just, yet what you are going through now - is it not exactly what your victims felt? What could they have done to defend themselves?"

"They were criminals! They did the same to innocent people and got a taste of their own medicine!"

"And so will you."

"Let me go. I will tell the authorities. You still answer to laws greater than you, L," he spat the alias, emphasizing with scorn what it was supposed to stand for.

"And who is going to believe you? You deceive and ridicule governments and then expect them to trust what you say, or even care? You are still so naïve. What does a pampered child know about the world?" L snorted in derision. "But you still thought you could manipulate everyone."

Light laughed. "You say that now because of that damned shinigami, otherwise you'd be dead. Doesn't that just grate your pride? I'm here not because you were better than me—you were just lucky."

The only thing he received in response was more pressure around his neck so that he sputtered and choked in his laughter. L smashed his lips to Light's, who moaned in surprise and pain as his lips were torn by teeth. A snake-like tongue ventured deep into his mouth, shutting him up good and proper. Tears he could not hold back trickled down his temples and moistened his flushed, throbbing ears. Light made a futile attempt to shake his head out of the grip, hair plastered against his sweaty face. The top buttons of his dress shirt were quickly undone.

Comprehension suddenly dawned on Light. This would be the last moment they had together: Kira and L. No one would ever match the greatest detective of all time the way Light had, but L's victory left the older man empty because Light refused to acknowledge it. And if Light was not forced to acknowledge L's victory now, he never would.

Light grinned maniacally. _He wants to conquer me completely_ _, but he knows he can't_ , he thought. _Everyone eventually sees L's way, but not me._ And just like that, the world's greatest mind was reduced to a neanderthal using sex as a weapon of domination.

At this, Light laughed. "You think that doing this to me will make you feel better, L? Have you ran out of clever bullshit to argue with so you turn to rape to make me submit to you? You're pathetic."

One hand on his neck, another on his bare chest, lips lightly caressing his chin, where hot, heavy breath tickled the wet skin—every movement stilled. Light was taken aback when L got off him abruptly; all that tangible heat was suddenly gone. He felt bereft of something he could not put his finger on.

"You're correct, as always," L said softly. "I won't become like you. I can get bored, I can desire what I can't have, but justice comes before all that. I won't be like _you_ ," he repeated, sounding on the verge of breaking before Light heard his soft footsteps turn away. The door groaned softly, clicked shut, and everything was once again silent, cold, and dark.

* * *

The heavy rain pounded on Misa's windows, shadows of her lavishly Gothic décor flickered and danced over her dark red walls from the candlelight illuminating the dim room. The romanticism gave her task as the second Kira a sense of importance and sensuality, and everything about Light was important and sensual.

But that job today had suddenly been put to a halt. Now she truly felt the dark gloom of the day settle in her chest as she scurried about her bedroom, packing the essentials in a small backpack. The police would be banging on her door any moment. Rem felt that at least she owed her that warning.

Misa wasn't stupid. She had prepared for this moment. She knew what she had gotten herself into the minute she chose to follow her parents' avenger to the end.

She hadn't cared then. She didn't care now.

And though one as cold as Light might view her actions for love to be stupid—driven by whimsical emotion—Misa knew that more stupid would have been to live a life that held no meaning to her. Her parents had chosen the easy life. They had been happy and expecting to grow old together when one night, on a walk through the streets like any other, they were murdered.

So what did choosing an easy life mean if it could end shortly anyway? Might as well court danger; bite the forbidden fruit and chase what she wanted most, even to death and hell. Deal with a reaper and cut her life shorter and shorter—at least it would have been a life that she could cherish in her last moments. Let her last memories be that of a pleased and content lover; the joyful smile of the most beautiful and intelligent man that had graced this putrid world.

Misa wasn't stupid. She was well prepared, not ruled by whimsical emotion, like one as cold as Light might think. But if it made him happy to think so, then Misa would never argue with him.

Now Rem, the one she trusted most, changed all that. Light would die a miserable death in exchange for Misa's life—a life to be confined in house arrest for the rest of it. And because she was human, she would die one day anyway, with memories of long years of solitude and failure that had been bargained in exchange for her loved one's life: the one thing that had brought closure to her pain after her parents' deaths.

She would rather slit her own throat than to let that happen.

 _What's the point of living like that, Rem? How could you betray me like this?_

Misa wept as she packed the Death Note. The male shinigami, Ryuk, cackled delightedly in a dark corner. "I always said it isn't very smart to get mixed up with humans."

"Rem," Misa said shakily, "The people transporting him…you are t-to write their names…" Misa forced herself to utter her instructions. She had planned this in case Light had been caught.

Light had been willing to sacrifice the people he loved should they become hindrances, so Misa thought it only fair to sacrifice her only friend if the shinigami stood in Light's way. She had prayed for this day to never come but…

Light's future was the _only_ one always on her mind. And she had it all perfectly planned.

* * *

Sleep had evaded him. Before he knew it there were a few hours left before dawn when he would be escorted to prison to await his trial. It would be quick. L would make sure of that. Governments fear him enough to make sure of it themselves. And his execution would follow soon after. Whatever upper hand Light thought he had gotten over L hours before, seemed stupid as the crushing fear of death overtook him and planted doubts in Misa of being any help. Maybe they already arrested her?

Nothing L felt now could compare to Light's terror. He shivered, swallowing a lump of nervous saliva. He could not bear the prospect of just… _being_ no more. Death was too unreal; it wasn't for him. He could not die. Ever.

L had come again; this time sober. Light could not see him, but he could feel the cold calm within him.

In his locked cell, L stood silently, not uttering a word about his intentions. Light sat on the hard cot. He could make out the very obscure outline of the man's slouched form. The tension stifled his breath. Light felt like any minute his hold on his nerves would shatter and he would scream at L, ask him what the hell he wanted.

A loud, pained breath escaped him and just as he was about to raise his voice, L spoke, "I pity you deeply, Light-kun."

He did scream then, a nice resounding, "Go to hell!" Too tired, angry and scared to come up with anything else.

"But," L continued, completely ignoring his outburst, "But I pity myself more."

He heard L lightly advance on him. L's sudden meekness contrasted painfully to his aggression only hours before. Light preferred the animal than this humbled, wretched adaptation of his opponent. An attack he could deal with, a challenge he would take…but this miserable confession was like nails tearing at his flesh.

"I curse you." Light felt his eyes grow hot but he refused to break in front of his mortal enemy.

 _"That_ you have already done, Light-kun," L retorted calmly. "My question is why did you choose this? For once in my entire career, I was willing to break my own rules and overlook your past crimes...because I thought during the time you were with me, you'd changed. I made a grave error in judgment. Not only did you murder a man while I was sitting next to you, but you planned on having me and Watari killed…by manipulating a shinigami—a sentient being—to sacrifice her life. That is beyond criminality, Light-kun. That is pure evil."

He had to laugh then. For a man who built himself on logic, L's words lacked it

"L, spare me your sermons. What do you want now? An answer to that silly question? Well, …it was my goal long before I even knew of your existence: to rid this world of rot. I'd be stupid to give it up just because we spent time together. A man as ambitious as you should understand this."

"I understand there are limits to what an ambitious man has the right to do."

" _Behave as if playing chess on ice_ …hadn't you said these exact words? Did I not play this game fairly, according to your rule? But now you're saying you would have broken your own rules - and the task force's trust in you - all for me? You grow more pathetic, L."

There was a long, aching silence where Light's stomach wouldn't cease to jump and clench terribly. This tight feeling urged him to get up, hit something, stomp and yell childishly that nothing was fair. Of course, he suppressed it expertly, however much it hurt.

"I won't deny," L finally said, "that you are right about that."

Light snorted. "Spare me this bullshit already. What do you want?"

"What I can't have, apparently. But, maybe…"

 _What is up with L?_ he thought. Those demented, cryptic mumbles only agitated Light further.

He heard L's footsteps come closer until he could feel L's heat in front of him. A warm palm pressed itself against the side of his cold face. Light flinched, hackles rising at the prospect of another attack.

"I'll ask this time. I've wanted you for the longest, Light. I know I can't have you but..."

Light's heart beat frantically. He never expected this.

L continued, "May I have a taste to remember?"

Lips brushed against his. Light tried to pull away but the hand on his face held him firm.

"Do you understand that this is the last time we will see each other, Light? This is goodbye."

And the words sunk in hard, but Light didn't have time to analyze his reaction. L's lips pressed more firmly and this time Light allowed him in, feeling oddly shaken and distressed. Their lips pressed roughly together, soft flesh bruising, their tongues sparked intensely, velvety and wet, firm and so very hot. Light relinquished all pretenses for just that single moment, their _last_ moment. He could almost forget the terrible finality of the situation he was in.

Light would berate himself later. Allowing this man, whom he both admired and hated, to touch him so intimately, to expose his vulnerability without a fight was terrifying. Yet it was delicious. Light might have had his hands cuffed behind his back, and the finality of L's visit might have shaken him, but he was not utterly giving up his control. Not completely. _Never_ all the way. He wanted something and L had no choice but to give it now that he started this. He detached himself from L's mouth, breathing hard with the older man's breath warming his cold face.

"Touch me," he commanded.

L obliged without any hesitation. He unbuttoned the rest of Light's shirt and hands spread wide with what seemed like the attentiveness of a devotee began to feel the quickly flushing skin beneath. L knead and caressed up the abdomen to his chest. Those hands were surprisingly calloused, but Light remembered L admitting that he was not a mere armchair detective, and had implied that he had _lived_ a great deal of the unimaginable.

There was still so little he knew about this man. L acted like such a brat most of the time that it made Light forget how much older the man was. How did a man end up in L's position? What had he survived to become like this?

Hot words were whispered in his ear, so confounding in their revelation that it took Light a moment to register them. "I had wanted to touch you for a very long time, Light-kun."

Light moaned softly, trying his best to suppress it. The overwhelming pleasure of the hands on him left him breathless. No one had ever touched him like this, not with such firm challenge. It was an exhilarating novelty.

He gasped loudly. Why was he so sensitive? His body reacted like a twelve year old boy's. Light had never thought of doing this with L before. And when L approached him earlier it seemed absurd, but the reality was wretchedly beautiful. Light hated himself for feeling such emotional nonsense.

And yet he had no inclination of stopping his voice from moaning a throaty, "touch me here," and spreading his thighs.

He was going to hate himself after this. But in the meantime, he could not help his cheeks from lifting in a sensuous smile as the most splendid, solid warmth of L's hand encased his manhood. He allowed this smile in the darkness. L would never see it. He thrust his hips shamelessly. There was never any doubt it was a man's touch around his flesh, and it made Light's mind go wild. He wanted more. Even as he thought of wanting closer contact, L pulled away to strip him of his pants and briefs. After which, he returned to plant himself between Light's legs.

Light froze. To speak would shatter their fragile connection but doubts surfaced as he struggled to push them back down.

His hesitation was brought to a stop when he felt L's face pressed against his for another kiss with quivering nervous lips as if L was holding back twenty-five years of repressed emotions. Whatever. This was their last moment together, and L was a pathetic man. Let the poor bastard take his little "taste to remember".

The detective had prepared him as properly as their means allowed, but it still hurt. When L finally managed to force himself in, Light could not withhold a half-stifled cry of pain. Hearing this, L stopped. His whole body trembled inside his loose clothes. Light had to concentrate on other things. The thrill of L's hard, clothed body rough against his naked skin. Light's shirt hanging sensually off his shoulders. There was something so delectably alluring about holding power in this submission.

Light was bare and vulnerable while L hid behind his shell of fabric, looming over him; yet L was a beggar and Light only allowed him to eat what he was given.

"Keep going, don't stop," he barked. He didn't need L's diligence or compassion.

There was a shuttering pause in which L seemed to hesitate; then with a growl and a few violent thrusts he buried himself all the way inside Light.

Tears streamed down Light's feverish temples as he gritted his teeth. He whimpered and hissed and let out strained, shuddering sobs instead.

"Fuck!"

"Yeah," L answered, breathing hard. "That's what I thought you'd say."

"Shut up!" he groaned back; talking was a difficult operation. Even so, the pain in a twisted way removed some of his fears. Crude and angry, not vulnerable and hurt. It was better that way.

This time there was no hesitation. L immediately began a moderate, steady tempo, thrusting in and out swiftly, shifting angles in search of something. Meantime, he took Light's manhood and stroked it back to life. Light's shoulders and twisted limbs cuffed under him burned sharply, but he ignored all that in favor of L's hand.

L noticed and said, "I want to see your face." Without the slightest bit of remorse.

Light glared in response. "And I wouldn't be caught dead on all fours, so stop talking and fuck me!"

Light had been about to think that he regretted allowing L inside when in a mind-numbing instant he arched up completely off the cot, his mouth agape, releasing a loud, shameful moan. When he did it again and again, having lost his trepidation, L began to chuckle breathlessly. The detective's expression was one of wonder, as if he's never seen something so beautiful.

"O—oh, fuck!"

"Yeah," L grunted painstakingly as he thrust in faster and harder from that same angle, hitting the younger man's prostate again and again. "I'd thought you'd say that too."

L pounded him exquisitely and perfectly into that springy cot. All mental and emotional inhibitions, embarrassment, shame, and pride were thrown to the winds. Light gave himself up fully to this domineering sexual fervor, riding out the pleasure-waves L provided with wanton anticipation. Moaning and sighing with freedom, he lifted his knees up as best he could without his hands so L could slide in easier and was frustrated to find he was unable to touch the man.

"Yes! Yes!" he half cried, half hissed. He was coming and coming hard like never before. No woman had ever made him lose it like he did then. No woman had fucked him as expertly as L had just now. Or aroused him to such heights. He had recently begun to suspect he might have no taste for the opposite sex but had firmly squashed those inappropriate thoughts.

Leave it to L to make him throw all that away. Light never did function as he _should_ around the man.

L threw his head back in bliss and cried out. For a moment, pale skin flushed red, sweat glistening on his face, eyes half closed and mouth opened and lax in pleasure, L looked really beautiful. He could feel vaguely how L shuddered above, and the spasms of a wonderful pressure inside his body, followed by a hot wetness that filled him.

For a blinding second, Light almost forgot everything that had happened that day, but as it came crashing back, he refused to waste one thought for the man who lay spent over him, still inside him, as both tried to collect their breaths, basking in the fragile afterglow. He couldn't afford to lose himself in it or to enjoy himself any more than he had under L. The violence in their actions was gone, making Light feel naked and exposed. He quickly took back his mental reigns and returned to reality.

When he finally pulled himself together, the body slumped over his felt heavier than he remembered. Shame returned, along with the pain in his ass.

"Get off," he gasped. He hadn't sounded as angry or firm as he had wished but it did the trick.

With a soft plop, L carefully removed himself from inside Light. His semen trickled down the younger man's heated inner thighs and buttocks. Briskly, he cleaned them both with the blanket, then pulled Light's underwear and pants back on with short, violent movements. He closed the buttons on Light's dress shirt quickly and shoved the soiled blanket under the cot. All the while, Light heard him breathe hard.

L was angry too, which was funny since he had been the one begging for it.

Light admitted to himself somewhat reluctantly that _it_ had been something he secretly needed also; a guilty desire to relieve him from the reality of his impending doom. And he had always held a morbid fascination with L, but the better part of him, the part of him dictated by his father's firm voice, flayed him heartlessly for what they'd just done.

"You got your damned taste. Now get out."

L kiss him again and Light, too distraught to struggle in vain against it, kissed back just as violently. This was the last time he'd ever see L. Light turned his face away to end the kiss. He couldn't stand it. That tightness in him that made him want to scream had returned full force.

"Leave!"

As abruptly as he had come, L left with a resounding click of the heavy metal door in the silence.

And that was it.

Light had won that first round so L had decided to try another tactic—lulling him into submission. L had buttered him up with those simple, cutting words, _this is goodbye_. He realized L must have some inkling of Light's feelings towards him, even if those feelings were a small, frail voice in the background.

Very well, Light gave round two to L...like it mattered in the end. The last battle decided the victor. If Light died then at least he'd still have punctured a hole inside L that would never be filled. Whether he was executed, or if he succeeded in escaping before then, it would, indeed, be the last time he saw L. The detective got his worthless taste to remember…no, to _haunt_ him. So Light didn't lose without considerably damaging his opponent. After all, L seemed to be the one with stronger feelings for him. To Light, it had been meaningless sex. A rook for the queen.

 **A/N:** The line "Behave as if playing chess on ice," is not mine. The credit goes to Nishioishin who wrote the Death Note novel, _Another Note_.


	2. Chapter 2: Escape

Alone in the dark investigation room, heart beating like a desperate little fist in his chest, L's eyes gaped at the monitors, showing footage of roads, cars, and buildings speeding past the cameras on the police cars. Though one would have thought the man was made of stone, inside L was seething.

They had made a mistake in not immediately going after Misa. One other failure in judgment, adding to the pile he had made regarding Kira. L had been a fool; preoccupied with stupid emotions of betrayal, anger, grief, rejection, all things he always thought held people back, and which he had carefully avoided all his life.

After standing on the rooftop, watching the Bell 412 helicopter he ordered from the Japanese Coast Guard to transport Light grow into a small black speck in the gray sky, taking the boy away from him forever, he came back to the investigation room and noticed something was wrong. He hadn't seen or heard from Rem in hours, his mind having been completely wrapped around Light like the spurned idiot that he was. Without wasting any more time, he had sent the task force to search for the white shinigami.

It hadn't taken them long to confirm what he had suspected. Rem was nowhere in the building. She had gone to warn Misa.

Mentally cursing himself, he first barked his desperate orders to the task force, then over the cyber line to the NPA to head for Amane Misa's apartment ASAP. He also knew he could die. They could all die, right that very moment. This had to be done carefully but quickly. Who knew what Misa might convince Rem to do?

Sitting crouched on his desk chair, curled over his drawn knees, he normally would run his thumb over his lips and rub his toes together impatiently, but feet and hands where both numb now, left with a cold tingling similar to the unpleasant feeling in his gut, coming from the pure dread of knowing any minute could be his last.

Finally, he saw the tall, lustrous façade of Misa's apartment building approach in the gray screen. It was a bit difficult to get a clear image with the drizzle and the windshield wipers crossing the view back and forth. But he didn't need perfect sight to see the distant figure of a blonde woman run out the front of the condo with a tall man next to her. She bumped into a teen boy wearing a cap and parka, almost threw him down on the wet sidewalk, to get to the third car parked in front of the building. A sleek, black foreign sedan. The man got into the driver's seat while Misa flew into the passenger's.

The police were seconds too late. No sooner did the vehicle's engine roar to life then it sped off its narrow parking space, grazing the car parked in front of them, ripping its side view mirror, and almost crashing into another one running on the street.

L groaned. A car chase? It would attract attention. This was steadily becoming a messy situation.

His anger was slowly getting the better of him. This was all his own fault. He was not used to dealing with failure and that was perhaps his one weakness. Lesson learned a little too late: a little loss of control was sometimes a good thing. He had grown overconfident over the years and now he suffered the consequences.

L had dealt with Light childishly...too childishly, even for him. His ego had subtly overpowered him. Inexperienced with such offensive emotions, he had sought to make Light submit. In the end, he had given his enemy more power.

Regaining his bearings, he dialed Watari on his laptop. He needed a police helicopter and the old man strapped for sniping.

* * *

Misa trembled as she put her seatbelt on. She sensed that she would fall apart any given moment but steeled her mind and kept those feelings at bay. She had to keep it together or she wouldn't be able to save Light.

The rain pelting her window seemed to dwindle slightly and the sound was somewhat comforting in the quiet vehicle. Her driver didn't speak, didn't ask questions. He wasn't hired to know things or make conversation.

Thoughts rushed like a turbulent river through her mind, heart hammering against her chest. But worst of all, her stomach felt like a tumbling washing machine about to rise and flow out of her throat. Her slender fingers wouldn't stop moving on their own, and all the while she gasped for breath as if the terror coiled in her stomach like a snake was squeezing the air out of her lungs.

"Hey, keep it together," the man said, glancing at her. Gleb was tall and pale-skinned with black hair and strikingly blue eyes. He was Russian but spoke Japanese fluently. This was actually the first time they met, though she had paid him some time ago to move in close to her and remain on standby.

Misa dialed a number, a representative of TEX, a wire transfer company, answered and she gave her code, password and key phrase. After a few moments of confirmations, she flipped her cell shut and told Gleb shakily that the rest of the money was in. She used a Hong Kong bank account from where she sent the money with instructions to an intermediary service that forwarded her wire transfers anonymously so that neither the recipient nor anyone else would trace it, or get a hold of her identity.

Gleb, of course, knew nothing of her purpose or that she had something to do with Kira. His job was to transport people to safety and remain ignorant about everything else.

An internet friend, shit deep with the government after publishing classified information in a newsletter and now forced to live in hiding, had recommended Gleb when Misa had sent the person an email from a cyber cafe to ask about finding someone to help her leave Tokyo in an emergency. That L would finally cut his act with Light and overtly hunt them down had always been highly possible—and now it was reality. In spite her anxiety, Misa was profoundly glad she had taken the precautions.

Misa had always been into the occult, secret societies, encoded religious myths, government conspiracies, even before Rem came down and gifted her with the Death Note, and she liked to think her interests and way of life had molded her into a cautious and clever person, perfectly capable of protecting and supporting Light. Almost as if it were all meant to be.

Why did all these things come together so flawlessly? Because, Misa knew, felt it in the core of her very soul, Light was destined to succeed. With her.

Light…

Even though she guessed well what Gleb's answer would be, she just had to ask. "Are you sure the charge will be fine?"

"Vickie will be at the destination point waiting," he answered readily, probably used to dealing with uneasy people. "She'll get him out, get him safe. Stop worrying. We're heading for her safe house now. After that, I'm gone, we never knew each other. Clear?"

"Yes." She looked up into the sky from her window and thought that Gleb was lucky he couldn't see the black figure flying above them, red, glowing eyes and an ugly grin on its face.

* * *

The downpour blurred everything outside, buildings and sky, into gray shadows, but he could not hear it over the roaring of the rotor. His wrists and ankles bound in heavy chains, Light sat hunched in fatigue, squeezed tightly between two armed guards. One more sat in front of him. Their faces were half-shadowed under caps or helms, strapped in protective vests and assault rifles resting on their laps. Behind the guard in front was a protective glass dividing them from the cockpit.

These guys were military. Another favor L requested from the government. Or perhaps the government insisted on it. Kira had topped every other terrorist group on the planet.

He sensed it first before anything happened. All of a sudden he knew something was out of place. The sensation lingered heavily in the air. Some of the guards seemed to change, but Light could not detect any evidence of this. It appeared at first to be just a gut feeling, but it seemed that the trip was taking too long.

Then he saw it, a white specter flashed outside the chopper under the lightning. A pair of yellow, baleful eyes appeared in the windshield in front of the pilots, but only Light could see them.

At that moment, his fatigue was lifted, heart stammered with joy at the sight and he laughed.

Only one guard stirred at this. The one sitting in front of him.

"What the hell is so funny?" the man snarled. This one had yet to notice his comrades have not reacted.

Light ignored him in favor of silently watching Rem emerge from the solid metal of the aircraft to get closer to him. The white shinigami was hovering right in front of Light when she began to dissolve into dust.

"In the end, Misa had to order you and still she is in danger. It would have been more merciful if you had just pretended it was your own decision, Rem," he jeered.

The yellow eyes glared at him coldly, unblinking and unfazed. "I do not care for your games, Light Yagami." She reached out a long hand and unfurled her spindly fingers, revealing a piece of paper, neatly folded and tucked in her palm. "A message from her… You will not be pleased with the end…"

Her once firm, thick voice trailed off, as she became a pile of dust on the helicopter's floor. The little strip of paper fell into his open palms lying face up on his lap before he closed them again.

Light cackled even after the guard pointed his rifle at him, demanding who the hell he was talking to.

The guard sitting next to him began to unchain his wrists, and the one on the left unlocked the cuffs at his ankles. Their black eyes were dead.

Rem hadn't had time to write all the guards' names in her Death Note apparently. He was surprised she had time to write four names as well as specific actions, but he figured Misa had probably written the actions. Rem's only task was to write as many names as possible in the blank spaces.

Light would have to do something about the remaining guard and he would have to think fast. That rifle pointed at him could spoil all Misa's efforts.

He glanced down at the black, sleek notebook on the floor next to the mountain of ash, and then at the slip of paper in his hand. On it, Misa's bubbly scrawl read: Over the Arakawa at Kawaguchi. I'll be there to catch you.

Light smiled, feeling victorious already. Misa had escaped.

The guard that had been spared shouted at his comrades, not knowing at whom to point his weapon or whether the other guards had turned dirty. He waved his gun about, confused and desperate. Light sat disarmingly still and looked at him. Upon catching the shocked man's eyes, he gestured at Rem's death note lying directly in front of him. "Look, there's something there," he said calmly, fighting back a wild grin.

The man reluctantly turned away from the detainee to glance at the notebook.

"Wha…what is that. How did it get here?" The man knelt down to pick it up. He shouldn't have. Light would soon be completely unbound. Consternation could make certain men forget their training.

Light watched him carefully, prepared for what was to come. He saw one gloved hand detach itself from the large gun and reach for the death note. He watched the grip on the notebook soon grow slack, the man's eyes widening as he noticed the huge pile of dust materialize out of no place his logic could trace, and the notebook slide from his gloved hand. Light wasted no time and kicked the ashes into the man's face. Falling back with a sharp cry, the guard tried to brush the grains out of his stinging eyes, his weapon hanging uselessly from its straps.

At the same moment, the last locks on Light's chains were opened and the guards flanking him began to convulse, their hearts failing. Light snatched one of their assault rifles, leaned close to the body because of the straps, and aimed it at the remaining guard, who was quickly abandoning the task of brushing off the dust from his eyes to point his own rifle blindly at Light.

All too late because Light fired first with amateurish freedom and the desperation of hitting his mark for the first time. It was over in seconds. Light gasped for breath as he looked at his handiwork—the mess. He felt repulsed, free, relieved, ecstatic. Powerful.

It was his first time shooting a gun, and even though he calculated well, the force of it beneath his hands surprised him. The man slumped, sitting on the floor, back against the seats behind, his face literally a bloody, cavernous, dripping pulp. Crimson splattered all over the seats and walls.

All three guards were dead.

The fatigue returned full force and Light sat back, letting loose a long sigh, the assault rifle clattered over the floor. Rest, however, would have to wait. He stood back up with a groan, crossed the space and peered through the fence into the cockpit. The pilots were being controlled by the death note, eyes blank, actions automatic, and their deaths insured by the end of the day.

Light turned back around and picked up the notebook. He flipped to the last pages that had been written on and saw there what Misa had planned. The first two lines were, "Flies to Kawaguchi, Saitama south-eastern border with Kita ward, slows over northern bank of Arakawa River near Kawaguchi golf course, between Iwatsuki Highway and Iwabuchi Red Sluice Gate and descends to 13 meters above water's surface. After, continues to fly west, until fuel runs out.

The pilots' names were written in different handwriting within the wide blanks left in the beginning.

The third line commanded the men whose names were written there to release him from physical bindings. And because Misa had no way of knowing who would be in the helicopter there where several blank spaces.

Light glanced over the pilots' actions again, before picking up the slip of paper that had fallen on the ground when he picked up the rifle.

Over the Arakawa at Kawaguchi. I'll be there to catch you.

Catch? Slows over the northern bank of Arakawa River…not stop. He had to jump into the river. L would track the helicopter, its course, where it stopped. This way, once police caught up to the chopper, they'd think Light was still inside until it ran out of fuel and crashed. Only L would know better but by then it would be too late.

Good thinking, Misa, he thought. She was proving to be very effective lately.

It didn't take long to see the Arakawa River emerge beyond the windshield; an endless, snaky body of dark gray fissuring what appeared from so high up to be blocks of cluttered buildings.

A minute later the chopper began to descend. Light studied the landscape carefully, looking for signs to indicate Misa's instructed destination.

Northern Bank of Arakawa near Kawaguchi golf course, between Iwatsuki Highway and Iwabuchi Red Sluice Gate…Light saw Iwatsuki Highway far ahead, behind a green field with a few, sparse trees contour the northern bank of Arakawa in a graceful curve. The field overlooked the juncture of three rivers that bordered, what he assumed were southern Saitama Prefecture and northern Kita ward. Shakujii and Arakawa rivers were divided by a triangular strip of land. The strip's beak pointed south-east and ended where the smaller Sumida River branched off from Arakawa.

Across Sumida was a blue sluice gate. Slightly more upriver between the strip of land's beak and a small island near the southern bank of Arakawa was a red sluice gate. The chopper seemed to head straight for the green field with the scarce trees on the opposite side, between the highway and the bright red sluice gate. Kawaguchi golf course.

The instructions couldn't be more clear.

The water began to ripple furiously as the chopper neared its surface, but it did not stop moving forward and it was still pretty high. The highway was much closer now and soon the chopper would need to ascend again. He had to hurry. Light slid the heavy door open and icy autumn winds blasted on his face, sweeping up his hair. He wasn't too far off the field, but he would have to swim a little. Death note in one hand, he did not hesitate to jump.

That had been one of his worst experiences. The drop, the seconds that ran forever as his stomach seemed to take a flight up to his chest, and finally, without warning, the blast of freezing water tearing through his skin. Light lost his hold on the death note during the impact, and once he burst to the surface, gasping and sputtering, he looked around frantically for it.

"Shit!" he cried. He was about to dive back in when he saw it float a few feet away, barely made it out in the rain. Sighing with relief he went to grab it.

Once it was safe in his hands, he swam towards the golf course. In the downpour, it was hard to see, but he could still make out a person's silhouette standing on the bank, waiting.

* * *

Piloting the chopper, L looked below and finally spotted the car running at high speed down the highway and hurried to get closer. He already made the order to have a blockade set up. The radios were announcing drivers on the highway to take the next exit or veer to the side and remain standing until further notice. There was the odd vehicle still running, but the danger had decreased considerably, leaving Misa vast room, but giving the cops greater momentum as well.

This looked much like the other night with Higuchi. Did this girl have to die too? The idiot was getting off with an incredibly light sentence for her crimes but apparently she would rather risk it all. For him. Always came back down to him. The sudden sympathy he felt for her only made L angrier.

Something terrible happened then. L could see the blockade of police cars ahead. The black sedan was not slowing down. It showed no sign of being affected by the enormous obstacle ahead. It ran straight ahead at one-twenty miles per hour. Too fast. The free room on the highway had given them free rein in speed.

Is she going to kill herself?!

L swore under his breath. He was getting closer, close enough to stop her. "Watari, shoot the tires! Now!"

He had to keep the chopper a little to the side, not directly behind the vehicle, for Watari to be able to see it without the nose of the chopper getting in the way. But they were in range and that was what mattered.

Watari shot. Two tires popped, the rear window exploded—the chopper wasn't in a good position for the sniper. The car swerved violently, skidded sideways, but it had been doing 120 and now slid down the street too fast. It was going to crash hard against the blockade.

L watched cops run out of the way. Misa's car rammed into police vehicles, metal flew up into the air and her sedan flipped over the line of cars, scratching rooftops, tearing off sirens. It landed on its roof at the other side of the blockade, skidding round and round.

When the car stopped, about five yards from the blockade, it tipped precariously on the edge of its roof, wavering between landing on its top or side. It fell back on its top and finally stilled. The chase had come to an end.

L saw a few news channel helicopters in the air fly around the scene like hungry vultures. What a pain in the ass. He landed his chopper on the other side of the wreck and sent a helmed Watari out to investigate the damage.

Sitting, unable to leave the safety of the chopper and investigate with his own eyes, the unbearable wait, and the news reporters in the air worsened his mood. He pulled a knee up, propped his elbow on it and sighed into his open palm.

What a horrid mess. It was all his fault. He shouldn't have slept with Light.

L let his desire for the boy, both for the touch of his skin and his submission to blind him. Kira was a mischievous child that needed to be put in his place. But L had acted no better and used his own emotions, his anger, and despair in a stubborn effort to dominate Light. But the boy's submission had been deceptive, false. Gave L only the illusion of a having gotten what he wanted it.

All he had gotten out of that stupid night was this: a huge fucking mess. L suddenly felt he aged ten years.

Closing his eyes, at that moment he made a vow to mature. L realized that his self-centered ways were not as useful as he used to think back when he was alone. Things have changed. Working face to face with good men like Soichiro and the guys. Developing a hesitant fondness for Light—back when the boy had been different, had a mind free of Kira. The fun, inane banters with Misa. Amusing himself with bullying preciously gullible Matsuda. The enlightening arguments with Aizawa that led him to see the more vexing habits of ordinary men in a new light. The welcoming comfort and support sturdy, loyal Mogi filled the task force with.

L's immaturity and greed brought only grief to these people he'd come close to. As aged as he felt that moment, he realized how young he had been until then. Overconfident. It was time to man up.

L watched them take the blonde woman and the dark haired man out of the crumbled sedan and lay them on the ground. They didn't move. The task force looked them over.

"What the…!" cried Aizawa. They were wearing helms but L could tell who was who by their movements. Aizawa-san was on one knee by Misa's right, a hand resting on a raised knee, elbow up.

"No way!" shouted Matsuda, no doubt the one on both knees on Misa's other side, moving his head up and down the girl's prone form, looking her over as if this would help him find the answer.

"This isn't her!" Soichiro announced, standing over them.

L sat up, both feet on the floor, leaning stiffly over the control panel. "What do you mean, Chief Yagami? Explain." It had never been so hard to keep his voice from shouting before. He knew the answer, hit him like a hard slap.

"This isn't Amane-san. An unidentified Japanese female and male. They're dead…Ryuuzaki, she's a diversion. We were chasing the wrong girl!"

L stood stiff, gaping at the scene. That was not Misa. She had tricked him. Of course. She had been free for a few days, had time to come up with something, or maybe she had prepared this long before she lost her memories of being the second Kira.

L had underestimated her.

Slumping forward, he buried his face in his was too much chaos in his head; he needed to review step by step and organize what his brain had stored.

He needed to know what the hell just happened!

How could he have not seen through this ruse? How had he been so easily duped by this girl?

He knew why. He'd been too distracted by emotions. Half his mind had been on Light. Always back to him.

They would have to go back to her apartment and turn the place over. Find clues to what her plans might be. Where she might go.

"Ryuuzaki, did you hear?" asked Soichiro.

"Yes, yes I did." What else could he say? Sorry, didn't see that one coming, my mistake? He was L. L didn't lead his men on a goose chase and apologize after. But he had. It left him speechless.

Just then Watari's voice cut through his thoughts. He sounded alarmed. "Ryuuzaki! Tokyo Prison just called me. Light has not arrived. The chopper veered north-west, they're tracking it now."

"…"

"Ryuuzaki, did you hear?"

The once formidable mind of the greatest detective in the world was reduced to a single, global expression of distress: **Fuck!**


End file.
